Remains of an Apocalyptic Mind
by ApatheticIndifference
Summary: The stories of The Lone Wanderer, The Devil Among Demons, and of Courier Six, The Mojave's Messiah, were legendary throughout the Wastes, even after the truth about them became long forgotten. They walked away from their achievements, to do as they pleased, yet, after the years had passed, they ended up in a world of bloody evolution. Multi crossover


**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, Fallout, The Outer Worlds, Bioshock or anything else that may appear in the story. **

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* * *

Small clouds of dust were thrown aside as a bright red motorcycle ran across the surface of a long since ruined road. Even if the sound of the radio was muted by the roaring engine, the rider could hear the jaunty tune of the pre-war song somewhat clearly making the night have a livelier feeling. Slowly, the bike began to stutter to a stop outside of an old, military outpost. The man tried multiple times to start the engine once again, only for it shut down seconds later.

With an annoyed sigh, the man walked towards the door of the cement building, before kneeling down and picking the lock on the metal door. It shifted open slightly as the man pushed it after finally releasing the hundreds of years old mechanism with it stopping slightly ajar as the rusted hinges refused to budge. Using his right arm, the man rammed into the metal with all his weight until it flew open to reveal the buildings long forgotten contents. He started to rummage through everything he could as he ignored the skeletal remains that littered the building.

Under the flickering lights and to the tune of 'Blue Moon' he began to clean up a small corner away from the entrance and any opening he could think of. There was more than just a reason for him to be there other than traveling. He was on the hunt for a raider group or, more specifically, the leader. Many a sleepless night had been spent to look for the man and his group, more than a month in travel time alone had been spent to get between the states and settlements for information of either him or people like him.

This specific person was far more dangerous, they had nearly single handily managed to unite many raider groups all over the wastes for their own cause. Just like the Legion, he wanted to conquer America, but due to the NCR seeing them as just another group of raiders that would rarely attack or damage NCR resources, they were allowed to do what they wanted. The man snorted at the thought, the very idea that the NCR had harder enemies to fight was stupid to him, especially with how frankly pathetic they were.

Whilst Caesar had managed to get eighty-seven tribes under his banner, that man had far more raider groups in his hands. They, also unlike the Legion, used whatever they could get their hands on, whether it be power armour or scrap metal, they would turn it into a weapon or make armour out of it so that they could expand even farther.

The man leaned into the wall slightly before the soft, green light of his Pip-Boy filled the room. After fiddling with the buttons and the dial, an old, semi filled pill bottle appeared in his hand. It was far easier to carry them around in an old bottle of Buffout with the label replaced by a simple image of two pills next to each other with a smiley face on it than to accidently mistake it for the bottles original contents. With a sip from his trusty canteen, both the pills went down and the slight parchedness in his throat disappeared.

Finally done, he let out a muffled yawn before his eyes closed to finally sleep as the last embers of his small makeshift camp started to fade. That was until he heard the sounds of footsteps trudging along the harsh sand outside. As quiet as he could, the man's crouched form gently shifted over to the doorway as he saw three men and two woman approaching. Without a second thought, he drew the scoped hunting rifle off of his back and took aim.

Without a drop of hesitation, he hit one of the woman in the knee, sending her toppling into the radioactive sand. Gunfire littered the night as the group started to shoot at him, all whilst shouting insults that he all had heard before. He took another shot at one of the other raiders, again, in the knee making them also topple over in pain. Small shards of concrete bounced off of his helmet as a bullet slammed into the doorway near his head.

"COME OUT YOU PRICK! I HAVE A JOB TO DO YOU SHIT!"

Bingo. He moved quickly as time seemed to stop, all whilst his wrist mounted computer started to display hit percentage chance. He hit both of the man's legs as he also fell down with a loud cry and blood bursting out of his legs. Even if he felt a small amount of exhaustion from using V.A.T.S, he could put it aside for now.

The hunting rifle was put on his back as the man pulled out a single 44. Revolver with the sound of the hammer locking into place as the only warning the raiders got. In a second, a 44. Round burst the delicate dome of the last standing man, causing a small wave of brain matter to cover the dead sand beneath him. As the body dropped the man ran from out of his cover, the feeling of the cold desert air stopping at his heavily armoured leather duster.

A shrill cry of fear came from the last standing female raider until her throat was crushed under the man's full weight with her last sight being that of the red light of his helmet lenses. Sand shifted as he moved his feet atop its surface with each step driving fear into the living raiders. One started to take pot shots at him in desperation, with only one really hitting his body on one of his heavily padded shoulder.

The traveller seemed to shrug it off before he pulled out a modified laser pistol. The last thing the raiders saw before losing consciousness was a blue beam of energy that hit them in the chest.

* * *

The feeling of aching pain and the smell of blood was the first thing that the raider leader noticed as he woke up, the second was the rising sun and the traveller standing over the dead body of another raider. Fiddling with the rope around his wrists, he started to tug desperately only to realise that he made too much noise. The man spoke with a slightly muffled voice due to the helmet.

"Hey, you're finally awake. How 'bout that."

With each crunching step, more and more fear built up in the raider's chest. He had stories of a person matching the travellers description from the many other raider clans. Some called him Death's Messenger and others simply called him the Mojave's Messiah, but everyone knew him as Courier Six. The Courier sat in front of him as he pulled out an 18 carat 9mm pistol. Nonchalantly, the Wasteland Legend started to speak again as he pulled out a picture of a brown-haired man in a suit.

"So, here's how we're going to do this. You tell me where this man is, and I don't give whatever crawlies live around here another free snack. Deal?"

Six notice the raider grow even more uncomfortable, making him let out a sigh of frustration. With a bang, the man's shoulder was forced back from the force of Maria's bullet, making the man cry out in pain. Six noticed the small tears on the verge of falling from the man's eyes. He kneeled down to the raiders forced position before forcing the mans head to look him in the eyes

"I gave your friends the same option, but all they did was spit at me. All you have to do is tell me where he is and you walk free, unlike your buddies, understand? I don't have the time or patience to listen to you regret your life choices. So, pal, give me a reason to not pull the trigger."

Even with the pain, the raider still knew that he had to shut up, it would have been more merciful for The Courier to kill him than what would happen if he talked. The man growled with defiance in his eyes as Six just looked at him impassively under his helmet, his voice a dull boredom.

"You done? Listen pal, I know he's somewhere in D.C, just tell me where, you and me go our separate ways with nobody any wiser about what happened between us. The moments your boss is gone, you'd be Scott-free with no one to stop what you wanna do. It's the best bet at living you got."

The raider spoke in a strained, desperate voice. There were so many stories of The Couriers exploits that if even half were true, he'd still stand no chance. Entire raider encampments wiped out by him with barely a wound on him. How he had single handily fought both the NCR and the Legion at Hoover Dam and won. About how he was vengeful man risen from the grave. If he was being given an out by this man, then he would take it.

"H-He's at the Citadel Ruins, even if the bastard keeps insisting that it's the New-World White House. S-so are you goi-"

He was cut off as a bullet went into his skull, before another and then a third to make sure that he was dead, before The Courier nudged the corpse with his foot. Six left the body still tied to the post as he made his way to his bike before he looked at his Pip-boy to know the time. He spoke in a slightly dull voice as he sat on his bike's leather seat with the leather being far more comfortable than many other options.

"Five A.M huh? If he's in D.C, then I'll probably run out on the road. Can't have that happening again."

The sound of grinding and a slight bit of water splashing sounded in the near empty desert. It was about seven when he was ready to move, but first came his cup of black coffee. Even if he was in a post-apocalyptic hellscape that was filled with the worst scum that could exist, he needed something to keep awake that wasn't a chems, those were for special occasions or for money. Despite how hard it was to get the materials sometimes, he found it far more than worthwhile, even if the taste could be a lot better.

Just as he finished the last drop of the dark liquid, the mug bursted into three large pieces. Six let out a small huff of surprise before speaking to himself.

"I swear, this always happen. Did I do something wrong or are the mugs just that terrible?"

He kicked the ceramic away from his bike before revving the engine as it came to life, only to die a few seconds later. He let out a groan of anger before smacking the handlebars and stepping off of the contraption.

"Seriously? Oh, come on! God damnit…"

He checked all parts of the engine, only to find out that it simply ran out of gasoline. While looking at it, he played with his pip-boy's dials and buttons until the bike disappeared in a blue light as if it was never there. Under his helmet, his face contorted slightly as he felt the weight of the bike cover his body almost like he was carrying another person or two.

Six started to walk down the ruined road as the beaming sun rained down on him, and he already knew it was going to be a long day.

* * *

By time he reached D.C, he was reading an issue of Grognak The Barbarian under the moonlit sky. Normally, he would have just set up a camp and lay on his bedroll, but he was one step closer to finally dealing with the bastard and he had arrived at the train yard that he could use to get into D.C. The howl of a ghoul filled his ears as one of the emancipated ferals ran at him. In an instant, a bright light came from his hands as a pole appeared in his grasp with a large blade at the end, the heavy weapon filling the entirety of his hands. The weighty blade impacted one of the ferals arms with it falling off lifelessly and lodging into the creatures ribs, although the feral continued to swing at him with the other arm while waving its slathering head in his direction, as if it was a zombie before it fell off of the bladed edge.

Another pounced onto Six, only for him to throw the humanoid to the ground and stomp on its legs. Not even a second later, the bottom of the polearm went straight through the thinned flesh and brittle bones in a muffled crack. Another of the ghouls charged at him, only to receive the pointed sword through the chest as Six pushed it onto the pint of the weapon.

Gunfire lit the night as Maria's trigger was pulled over and over as he fired at the ghouls, causing one's melting skull to splatter over an old trains wall. Hoisting the ghoul corpse off his sword and out of the other ghouls chest cavity he kept watch over the trainyard for any more signs of movement. Suddenly, from under a train cart, a Glowing One appeared in all its toxic radiance. Just as Six was about to pull Maria's trigger, a large burst of radiation came from its body, knocking his aim off making him only hit its spindly arm.

Dust was sent flying as the Courier ran at the Glowing One with the still slick sword in his hand. It cut through the air like a knife as Six's leg was caught by one of the revived ghouls, making the blade free from his hands and into the stomach of the Glowing One, pinning it to a train cart.

"GET! THE! FUCK! OFF!"

Six was shouting as he bashed in the ghoul's head with his free foot as it tried to gnaw at his ankle like a rabid dog, before its skull turned to mush. With a single heavy kick, he was back able to move properly, only for another ghoul to pounce on his back.

The mindless ghouls rotting teeth plunged into the Courier's right arm, only for the rotting jaw to shatter as it bit into metallic alloy. Mercilessly, Six threw the emaciated creature over his shoulder and slammed his arm into its face, crushing the front of its face. Blood littered the ground as the sound of a shotgun blast echoed over the freezing wastes as his arm was forced back, making the Saturnite barrel of his shotgun attachment glistening under the moon.

Whirling filled the air as it dove back into the mechanical casing that acted as The Courier's arm, before finally stopping as the sound of a low click filled the chilled air as the top plating closed together. He ripped his sword from the Glowing One in a ragged bisection, before wondering to the maintenance door of the tunnel and gently opened it. A single mine was laying on the floor in front of him openly, either because the person who placed it was desperate or using it as a form of warning rather than an actual defence.

Swiftly the mine was disarmed and placed into his Pip-boy, just in case he needed it later. Blade at the ready, he softly stepped into the actual tunnel rather than just a service area. Wet ripping sound echoed through the darkness as Six's blade slammed into a ghoul's head as it was crouched over, seemingly eating a corpse.

Effortlessly, it was yanked from its bisected skull as The Courier slung it over his shoulder before walking over the ghoul's body and its partially eaten meal. It wasn't long until he had to jump onto the rusted train tracks from part of the collapsed tunnel. Ducking under a large amount of rubble, the night vision of his helmet dimmed slightly as the outside light invaded through a rusted gate. Rather than waste a C4 charge and have the possibility of the tunnel collapsing even more, he walked over the service door and began picking the lock in a well-practiced manner.

With a click, the door opened wide and he pocketed the broken shards of a snapped bobby pin to use in other things. Cautiously, The Courier moved to the exit with his sword on his back and Maria in hand. Two bangs filled the air as a raider fell back with a shot through the eye and forehead. The others of his group began to fire in the Courier's direction, only to see their still hot rounds hover in the stagnant air before dropping to the ground; each of the rounds were still as Death's Courier left hand was outstretched, before the used rounds dropped to the ground.

Slight mirth filled Six's voice as he saw that they recognised him.

"Well, seems that you know me, and if that's the case, how about you sit down and let me pass?"

A bullet hit his helmet. The Courier licked his lips under the helmet with a hungry tone to his voice.

"Oh, ok. Your just more bodies for the pile then."

Fear ran up the Raiders spines as the he charged at one of them, while shooting his pistol wildly in the man's direction. The raider called out in desperation

"GET HIM!"

A bullet ran through the man's throat before Six threw himself onto an open train cart and hiding behind one of the rusted walls for cover. With VATS active, he peeked through the hatch and flawlessly unloaded the rest of the magazine into the raider groups legs, arms and torso, sending two nearest to him to the ground in pain.

The clip dropped from his gun before disappearing in a blue light, just as he jumped of his hiding place. Everything slowed to a halt when Six activated his Implant GRX, the Turbo effect allowing him to easily move around the trainyard to avoid bullets and allowing him to line up many headshots to swiftly end the raiders. After three seconds, time seemed to return to normal as the group dropped plummeted into the ground beneath them. Metal flew all over the place as one of the train carts bursted open and the large, hulking form of rusted power armour charge at the Mojave's Messiah.

Pellets flew by Six's head as the sawn-off shotgun's muzzle flashed brightly. The entirety of the second round crashed full force into The Courier's chest forcing him backwards onto the ground.

"Not so tough now are ya? You've gotta be worth a pretty pile of caps I bet."

If he was going to continue, he didn't as a small EMP blast came from beneath him which caused many of the rusted mechanics to break apart and locked the servos in place. Instead of using his sword or handgun, a purple, bubbling scythe blade moved through the power armour. All the raider could do was shout profanities and beg.

Six was launched backwards as the body bursted into a large blast of purple radiation. Even as the last wisps of the N-Rays drifted off of him the purple energy scythe was once again in his Pip-boy. Six collapsed into the sand as he felt the sweat cling to his skin. His head looked to the pile of purple goop that was once a raider before speaking with heavy breaths.

"That took way too much out of me. Sometimes, I wish I could just go back to the Unreliable y'know, god I miss the air conditioning. Why am I talking to you, you're just a mangled corpse!"

Picking himself up off of the ground he once again began to walk away from the battle site. Again, he pulled out a comic book and began reading it as he headed to the Ruins of D.C, or as it had become known as, The Devil's Den.

* * *

More rotting ghouls came flooding out of the Tenpenny Tower's remains while Six idly gunned them down as if they were nothing with only a bored expression on his face under his helmet. According to rumours and hushed talks, the Tenpenny tower was one of the very first places that The Wanderer annihilated.

Apparently, the tower was home to both ghouls and humans after he managed to work things out between them. Others said that he never had nothing to do with the ghouls entering the tower freely, or that ghouls never actually entered the tower in the first place. All that was known was the place was occupied by rotting ferals after something went down, with the only person that was ever seen leaving the place was The Wanderer covered in blood and dressed in his infamous blue hooded jumpsuit.

It was often debated which happened first, either the wiping out of Megaton or the destruction of Tenpenny tower, especially since they seemed to happen at the same time. A click came from Maria as he empty the last bullet into leg of the final ghoul. Sticky strings of blood sloshed under his boots as he crushed its brittle skull under his sole while he walked into the courtyard. All that met him was dead ghouls, abandoned supplies and decayed bodies. Six crouched down to one of the combat armoured skeletons before tracing a large cut that ran down the dead man's chest. From what he could tell it was done by a simple, well used and blunt kitchen knife had not only cut through the military made armour, but also the wears chest.

_The door was blown off of its rusted hinges as he kicked them open. One of the guards was sent to floor as the rotting wood hit him in the chest. Gleaming under the sunlight, the knife stabbed into a guards chest before roughly dragging it diagonally. The bountiful red splattering over his blue clothes as if it was an oasis in the desert._

He moved to the broken remains of the door laying atop a body, the neck seemed to be at an odd angle.

_Cackling ran out of his throat as he ripped the knife from the man's chest. A strong trail of the sublime liquid following before he ran over to the man under the door, his heavy boot colliding with the chin as a viscous crack came from the dead man's ninety-degree angled neck._

There was one final dead corpse that was slouched against a one of the barred walls. His rusted assault rifle was lazily laying by his side right next to broken shards of his armour that seemed to have been penetrated by a large object.

_Flashes of gunfire was caught in the corner of his eye as the last guard fired at him, with only a single round going through his chest. All he did was ignore it as a cutthroat grin covered his face. Wood bursted from his hand as it slammed through man's chest and into the wall as it left a bloody mark in the war-scarred brick behind him. _

He grabbed the rifle as he put a loaded magazine into the bottom with a satisfying click before he entered the building. It still looked somewhat fine, a small grace despite the amount of ferals that had come from. Even with radiation rotted wood and destroyed furniture, the place still had power running through it judging from the lights still being on. While there was skeletons and the unrotting decayed bodies of ghouls that littered the place, alongside their dried blood, it still had a fine feeling around its structure. Luckily, his helmet mostly removed most gases and smells, so he didn't have to bear the scent of rotting, diseased flesh, sewage from before the Great War and 'fresh' wasteland air that had come in through the front door.

It lost points for the large gashes and blown up bits of walls that littered the ground, alongside the barely identifiable remains of furniture and the obvious dead bodies.

"God, this place looks like it was a blast… hehe."

His small laugh stopped as he heard the dull thumping from the overturned receptionist desk. It was just a trapped ghoul trying to get out and The Courier left it there as he moved about the destroyed Capital's high-end building. Not even a few seconds later the sound of clattering metal blocked off the entrance to the sewage line, not only cutting off the ghouls entrance way but also leaving one way to enter the building. Three echoing bangs filled the atrium as he pulled his new assault rifles trigger. He didn't want to be surprised by the ghoul if it broke out.

Six put the almost broken rifle away in his pip-boy to repair later and once again took Maria out to be safe as he searched around ground floor. An old storefront with the salesman skeleton still at the desk and an old bar that was upturned had the best he could probably hope to get out of the place. Six only sighed as he looted the rest of the rooms on that second floor; only one room had anything of worth and that was an almost pristine 44. revolver he could probably sell for a good price. With nothing else to do, he called the elevator to take him to the the very top of the building.

"Well, ain't that ominous… being trapped in a small metal box with a fucky door."

He waited for the elevator door to open fully, even giving it time slowly work through its stuttering. It made a heavily distorted ding before it finally opened. In a tone matching the residents of the tower, his empty voice came out in a monotone.

"Great…"

It was a bumpy, claustrophobic ride. Out of everything he had been through, such as being shot in the head and having an involuntary lobotomy, a shitty lift was what made him feel reluctant to do anything. He turned left and found a ransacked suite that was wrecked beyond repair. There was even a little balcony that had a view across the desert.

"_Well, good show! That was a fantastic fireworks show, wouldn't you agree Mr Burk?"_

_The grey suited man let out a small chuckle as he took a sip from his dirty glass. Amber liquid spilled slightly onto the table and just narrowly missed the nuclear detonator right beside it. The hat on his head was removed as he wiped a growing line of sweat off of his brow, the single eye peaking from under his accomplices hood unnerving him as its red and black eye followed each of his slightest._

"_Defiantly sir, but this couldn't have been done without our friend here. With the amount of effort he put into our cause, there should be an equally fine reward."_

_A posh laugh came from the brit's voice, before speaking to the hooded man without move his eyes from the still glowing mushroom cloud._

"_Of course, of course. A key to a suite on this very floor. I've already had the Mister Handy dress the place up as your former home, I assure that you couldn't even tell the difference between your vault-"_

_Whatever words he was about to say was silenced as the rusty kitchen knife severed the old man's head from his body with the blunt edge only managing to go through due to the amount of force behind it. It was soon launched into the grey suited man's chest at abnormal speeds, the last thing his dying eyes managed to see was the red and black of The Wanderer's eye._

His fist collided with the ruined balcony door as his breathing became more and more ragged, the rotted corpse of both men was still dressed in their suits, even if their skulls were pinned to the wooden tops of the balustrades by large sticks. All he did was take the red suit off of the tower's former owner in the hope that he could somehow repair the damage done to it.

He walked through the entirety of the floor, taking anything that he could get his grime covered gloves on. There was only one room left in front of him. Slowly, the door creaked open as he hugged the wooden frame in case there was any traps. All he could be was surprised as not a single trap was laid out for an intruder.

_The cackling laughter of the man ran throughout the dead building. His old, mangled jumpsuit was thrown aside onto his bed as the torn apart body of the Mister Handy was simply huddled in a corner. A click came from the device on his wrist as it fell to the grown without a sign of damage. The supercomputer skidded across the floor next to the robot after he kicked it out of his way._

_He had picked up a different modified vault jumpsuit. Blue fabric was mixed with leather made of human skin with the only thing holding it together being the wooden brackets at its seams. The Wanderer's fleshy hood only partially covered their face, leaving one of his eyes exposed and his carved smiling face free to the world. He would always wear a smile as he saved them._

Dust was piled upon everything, from the broken projector to the lifeless robot, but even then, the blue old jumpsuit stood out among the grey. Particles of the grey coating was launched into the air as he grabbed the blue fabric, the unsightly one-zero-one was still as blatant as ever and unmistakable for a vault suit. Honestly, he never hoped to uncover the Devil's Pip-boy, but it was just a benefit to have on him, just in case. The only thing that he actually though of taking was the large amount of Vault-Tec bobbleheads that were just left their to decay in the dark room, it wasn't every day that you could find such a collection

He stored the bobble heads, the old jumpsuit and The Wanderer's pip-boy in his own before he hopped into the elevator, only to immediately regret it. The elevator cable snapped midway down and sent him plummeting to the bottom of the building in a painful impact, which was only countered by his enhanced sternum and ribs taking the brunt of the impact. At first, he banged at the door over and over in the hope that it would slide open or it would fall forward, at least until he decided to just pry it open with an old knife and his fingers.

At the end of the day, he not only managed to reach the still, ashy aired Megaton ruins, but had also killed what had to have been a couple hundred raiders on the way. Six stopped at what appeared to be a Brotherhood supply caravan that had just emerged from a nearby cave, honestly it was a surprising sight to see members of the Brotherhood in D.C, especially after the Citadel's Destruction.

"_You… You fucking MONSTER! YOU KILLED THEM ALL! DIDN'T YOU CARE FOR THEM AT ALL?!"_

_She fell to the ground as The Devil stared deep into her eyes. His hand was drenched in Brotherhood blood as he tore his knife from the neck of a dead paladin with the blade tracing across the man's jugular. All he did was let out a throaty laugh before speaking in his unhinged voice._

"_Why the hell would I care? Nothing Matters to me, there's nothing left for me, and there's nothing left for this piece of shit corpse of a planet. Hey, hey, wanna know something?"_

_Even if she didn't want to know he told her, the skinless smile on his face never leaving._

"_Before the place went boom, I left messages around the place telling them to evacuate. There might be some of your people left, find them and hunt me down. I do LOVE a good revenge story after all. Have fun."_

_With that, the Devil left the remains of the destroyed Pentagon to gather dust, all as Sarah Lyons shouted curses at the Brotherhood's Betrayer_

The gruff voice of one of the Brotherhood members drew him back to reality, the shaking of the Six's gun put every other person on edge as if he was five seconds from trying to riddle them with bullets.

"State your business- wait, your that mailman fellow, aren't you? What are you doing here?"

Despite the small spike of anger at being called a mere "Mailman" and the growing unheard murmuring, he decided to answer although there was a slight hint of spite in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm that "Mailman". I'm heading to the Citadel, have business there involving both its dwellers, their leader and a small armies worth of artillery."

"You mean that raider infested hellhole? You aren't going to join them, are you? If you are-."

That got a small chuckle out of the riot gear covered man, the noise both sounded strained and fake to no one but his own ears.

"Now that's a funny joke. Personally, I think that their long due being removed, maybe change the crater into a little club house or something, just like you guys did ages ago. Say, you wouldn't happen to know the way there, I have a hundred spare caps that could "accidently" change hands."

Another brotherhood member started to look their way, before he returned to keep watch for any raiders from his look out point, all as the brahmin heads grazed on a few parts of the very few strands of yellow grass sprouting out of the road carefully without a care. The soft jingle of the caps was hidden by the leather pouch they were in when they switched hands before they disappeared under the man's armour.

"Go north east of here and follow along the Potomac river all the way down until you see that raider hole, can't miss it with all the defences and walls that they put on it. We're lucky that both Elder Maxon and Liberty prime was moved before the orbital strike hit, thank god for that or we'd have lost the memorial by now to those raiders."

The other Brotherhood member grabbed their attention, more specifically the Knight that Six was talking with.

"Knight, it's time to move. If we stay any longer, we may not be able to reach the outpost before nightfall."

"Yes Paladin. Bye traveller, stay safe."

Hoofs clicked uneasily against the crumbling road as the caravan moved farther away towards the giant airship in the horizon while Six moved the opposite way, his caps back in his hands after he took it from The Knight. Gun in hand he travelled down the road and to a small area called Andale. Just being there put him on edge, even more so when it started to make the murmuring in his head louder. He was sure that he was supposed to have another hour before he had to take another dose, but he'd rather not deal with the current consequences. He moved his helmet up a slight bit as he threw back a pill and downed it with water from his Vault thirteen canteen.

Corpses dangled from chains between the ruined buildings roofs, each one spinning in the wind like some half-eaten kabab on a stick. Even with his pills getting to work, the whispers continued to grow in strength as he walked past the torn and half-cannibalised limbs of settlers. Not even once did his finger leave away from the trigger as his eyes continued to watch like a hawk. Surprisingly, he wasn't ambushed by anyone, if anything it seemed that there was no one there at all. It was odd, especially due to the many raiders he had to slaughter to get through the desolate town and now there wasn't even a single one. He did have to admit that even Raiders feared cannibals, since the cannibals just saw them as walking bags of food. Rad rats scurried across the street for a second, almost making him pull the trigger on the handgun in sheer paranoia, only to stop at what he saw at the intersection ahead and heard the sound of fighting ahead.

A pair of adults that were fighting off a group of people that were acting animalistic with rusty, ramshackle weaponry that looked like it was five seconds from falling apart. Like a blind Deathclaw, Six threw himself into the battle as his gunfire riddled one of the raiders, with Death's Messenger noticing that they all had strange shaking all over their bodies.

Another saw this and made a stutter noise, alerting the rest of his group before lunging towards Six with a rusty pike. Two rounds went through one leg, making him fall unevenly, and another round went through the man's head. Six managed to duck under the blunt log that one swung, before he slammed his hand into her stomach, only to go to another opponent that slashed at him with a Chinese Officer Sword. It caught his left sleeve, making a light cut on his skin beneath, before the raider's legs were taken out from one of the strangers using a sledgehammer.

Acidy bile flew from one of the raiders mouth as they tried to recuperate after the savage strike to the stomach. Her head was cut from the neck by the old Officer's sword.

The final one let out what could only be a roar as he charged, with a pair of bullets going through his skull making her body ragdoll into the sand.

They were easily put down, especially considering that they had only had worn-out weapons. It was only then Six took notice of the two people properly. One a woman in pre-war clothing that had small pieces of armour strewn over it, along with a somewhat hollow look in her eyes and a man with short, brown hair and an old red flannel shirt which hid the blood surprisingly well.

_Rough, sandy fabric wiped blood away from his mouth, his wooden brackets still holding onto the small droplets of bloody flesh on both the inside and outside of his mouth. He let out a laugh as he watched the two children run from him._

"_Don't worry, I've dealt with all of the bad guys children. Don't be scared! Come here, I'm not going to hurt you."_

_They continued to run as he delve his hand back into the old man's body, before ripping out another part of flesh._

"_Huh, I was hoping to have a meal with friends." _

"Hey, You okay there? You didn't get hurt too bad, did you?"

The Courier's blank eyes readjusted under his helmet, bringing him back to reality as the man spoke to him. With a swat from his Six's hand, the man knew that he was there, at least partially. Six noticed the crawling body of one of the raiders. With a sharp bang, all life left the cannibal's body.

"Oh, uh, sorry about that. You mind telling me where we are? Probably would be best if you gave me your names as well while you're at it."

Wiping a small trail of blood off of his hand, the man spoke again as he pointed to the woman.

"That grumpy woman's Jenny, and I'm Jack, a pleasure to meet you…"

Six let out a small grunt as he poured a small bit of alcohol over the cut on his arm, the stinging feeling almost always bringing a small flinch to him despite knowing that it was coming. Six spoke in a more friendly tone.

"Name's Courier Six, though, I suppose you can call me just Six. Its short and sweet. So, where are we?"

This time it was Jenny that answered in a somewhat annoyed tone and rage in her eyes, the venom in her tone was obvious.

"This was Andale. We grew up here until old man Harris and The Wanderer saved us by killing our parents, they were like these scums. That man was good back then, but it must have been a lie the entire time because he changed into what those raiders worshipped; a psychotic, cannibalistic fuck. I'm glad he disappeared; I wish that I can see his body with my own eyes. Though it would have been better had he taken his little group of raiders with him into hell."

Fear covered Jack's face as he looked around as much he can before raining his voice at Jenny.

"JENNY! What if another raider heard you? Do you even remember what happened to Big Town and what those sickos did?"

They started a shouting match as they got closer to each other with obvious anger directed at each other. Six broke their squabbling when he spoke, both confusion and strictness in his empty voice.

"Hold up. Big Town? What happened there?"

Both quieted down before Jack spoke solemnly in remembrance.

"It was…W-When The Wanderer decided to become… that thing, Abaddon he called himself, a bunch of raiders decided to worship him like a God. Eventually, they got word that someone in Big Town was disrespecting him and well… Everyone was wiped out and made an example of in the worst way. We only made it out because of a guy named Sticky. Sticky might have been an insufferable asshole, but he didn't deserve what they did to him after they got him, the only reason his suffering ended so quickly was because I managed to kill him myself.

Then some other guy came out of nowhere after Abaddon's disappearance and made everything become more chaotic. It broke the raiders into factions with those that had worshipped The Wanderer abandoning them and those that stayed became more powerful than before"

The Courier let out a soft hum as he heard everything from the man. It wasn't the first time that he had heard of something like this happening, it was the wasteland after all, almost everything was possible. From Raider god-kings to aliens, anything could exist in the barren lands, if they had the means and will to.

With a wave, he left the two to whatever they were doing which seemed to be looting the dead. He began to head down the road again as he follow the map on his Pip-boy.

* * *

His blood-soaked footsteps trailed over the crumbling roads, leaving small imprints of red on the grey surface as he once again followed the road. By the time he had reached the Arlington library, it was already night again, and his body and mind was tired. But he had work to do.

Brain splattered across the back wall as the silenced shot ripped through a raiders skull, the 50. calibre bullet eviscerated her skull in an instant. Again, he fired another round into another raider, and then another and another. By the time he had dealt with the overlooking guards, he had emptied the entire magazine. Deft footsteps traced around the perimeter of the building as he dealt with the ground guards as the murmuring continued in the back of his mind, which only seemed to be relieved every time he broke a guards knack or slit their throat. In places of where their fortifications were weakest, he placed specially made bombs down. Each one was made with C4 and a mini-nuke, as well as a few components that was used in Nuka-Grenades, just to give it some extra punch.

With all five bombs in place around the walls of the crater, he took off to the roof of the library again before he pulled the trigger on his detonator. For a second, he thought that they failed to detonate, until the glowing of multiple, miniature nuclear explosions overtook his vision, each one strangely having its own unique colour.

"Those were some good fireworks, but I think it needs something more…"

Chipped, green pain covered his hand as Euclid's C-finder appeared. With a casual grip, he aimed the toy-like gun before glowing orange lights began to focus on the centre of the crater. It disappeared for a second and then a beam made of pure solar energy descended from the heavens as if it was God's judgment.

"Now that's a morning glory if you ask me. Better than some stupid flower any day."

It was a short walk past nuclear debris and some partially disintegrated corpses to get to the crater, ready for the picking. Most of the ramshackle housing was destroyed in the first blast, killing the vast majority that were sleeping, but the majority seemed to die in the second round from what he could tell. As he made his way into the depths of the crater, he had to gun down a few stragglers that had managed to survive, Six could only call it a mercy killing with how some of them looked. What surprised him was a large group of metal that was charred from the blast, and an entrance way below ground.

"Of course, another elevator. It seems to be my lucky… week."

There was a newly made, slightly warped platform elevator that descended into the depths of the complex beneath. It looked as if it was finished, at most, a few weeks ago. Only a few people had enough resources to make not only the elevator, but also the entire complex that ran through the underground, either it was the NCR, Brotherhood of steel or what little remained of The Enclave. It was only then that he actually to notice the painted version of the old-world flag at the centre of the lift, with a large capital E in the centre.

"My god, how the hell do these fucks keep coming back. I swear rats are less perseverant than them."

The All-American appeared in his hand as he turned the safety off.

"Luckily, I'm used to being an exterminator."

* * *

"Just hurry up and drop dead!"

Six couldn't help but shout while continuing to fire at the heavily armoured Enclave soldiers from behind a metal wall. Eventually, he gave up on that approach as he pulled out a pulse grenade and the Pulse Gun, each ready for use. A pin dropped as the grenade flew and bounced behind one of their set up barriers, before bursting with the sound of crackling electricity and the painfilled shouts of the soldiers as they were locked into place.

Brain matter decorated the silver walls as the emitter tore one of their heads apart viciously in a bloody mess, before he pulled out a riot shotgun and rapidly pulled the trigger against another's helmet.

_Thin silver slipped into the enemy's neck as the point broke the skin, letting the sanguine cover his hands and knife._

Six felt the metal fist hit his gut as Blood-Nap was flung from his hand as the soldiers not only began to move again, but as more reinforcements appeared.

_Flat steel slammed into the soldiers head over and over as hot tears drenched his cheeks and rage filled his blood._

The Super Sledge turned one of the fighter's chest to mulch as the kinetic energy slammed onto the sternum, knocking the corpse back and making another of the Enclave to miss a shot at the struggling Courier. Death's Messenger rolled out of the way of another shot before his purple scythe appeared in hand, not only severing the man and his power armour into two, but also causing a large blast of purple N-Rays, sending both him and the rest of the soldiers flying back.

While he was slightly affected by the glowing energy, the others were still extremely vulnerable to the unknown type of radiation. Again, he pulled out his Pulse Gun and fired. Screaming came from the hit Enclave soldier as the armour imploded on itself, tearing the man into small pieces as the armour crushed him to death. Even with the obvious fear in the other soldier's body language, he repeated the same with them without any emotion under his helmet, only showing slight discomfort as he wiped blood off his lenses.

Super-heated plasma bursted all over his arm as another group of soldiers appeared before him. The saturnine arm's red glow brought fear the Enclave-turned-Raiders, even more so as it went through a power armour chassis effortlessly, the same being said for the person in the suit who screamed as his insides were burned. The limb was torn from the man's torso as a large blade of Saturnite shot from the outside of his arm.

Glowing metal tore through their suits like butter while they continued to fire at him despite looking barely affected by the rounds.

As the final corpse fell, Six covered his arm in water as it boiled and steamed. All The Courier could do was hope that the none of the mechanisms would break. Not only was it hard to create and shape Saturnite due to the volcanic heat needed to make the alloy, as well as having to know the original components of it which he barely managed to convince the Think Tank to give him. Luckily, it seemed the cooling process didn't cause the material to break in any way.

Rugged breathing and the distinct sound of something heavy running at him barely alerted him in time to dodge away from a savage strike, but he was still managing to hold onto his organs as another claw almost flung him all the way back down the corridor. Growling and snapping jaws made sure the Six pull out two large axes. Knock Knock's trusty edge carved into the skull of a Deathclaw easily as it tried to bite him, knocking the beast to the ground, before the beasts head was cut through violently as the serrated blade of The Landing Platform Cutter sawed and cauterised the lifeless body.

Only one of the packmates charged at him, only to be thrown of the Courier's shoulder with his still exposed Pata sword ramming all the way through the creature's head as the shotgun in his arm twisted back and fired. shooting it forwards like a battering ram. A shell dropped out of Six's arm as he sighed and spoke in a tired tone.

"So, first raiders, then Enclave raiders and now Enclave Raider Deathclaws, oh…joy."

Scorched metallic fingers were shaped into a finger gun motion as the still pristine shotgun snapped to its original direction, before the resound bang and a hail of pellets came from the barrel. Even more of force was applied by telekinetic power, decimating another of the abominations body, all while the other members of the pack circled him with only a slight show of fear. One of the monstrosities flew towards him a, before pinkish guts flew from the creatures centre while the tip of the Pata cut through its stomach.

One of the bolder Deathclaws swung at him only to pull back his arm before contact and leapt forward to take a bite out of the man's head. Six's natural arm smacked against its back and a large shot of wood ran through the creature, before it turned into a vibrant green tree. He snapped a branch off of the tree and jammed it deep into another Deathclaw's skull with a small struggle from the creature before slitting it's throat.

Seeing an opportunity, the last Deathclaw tried to swing at Six with only the longest talon cutting across the surface of his armour, leaving a somewhat deep impression on the protective gear. It managed to bury it's teeth into Six's shoulder, with a sickening crunch and blood dripping from the green pads covering them. With a painfilled scream, he tore one of the horns from its head, before digging it into its owners throat. Warm blood poured from the creature's slit jugular like a fountain as it drenched the man's helmet and upper body.

He held back a small gasp as he stabbed a stimpak into his shoulder, the various medications already working to restore his body as well as it could as he spoke to himself with a mix between a tired and an angry tone.

"Doesn't seem to be anyone else here. If I was an old-world fixated bastard, where would I be?"

It was only then that he noticed the gleaming metal of two poles, each topped with an eagle and with hanging, pre-war American flags. It was a beside a double wooden door that had a small mat in front of the door and an obvious intercom next to it.

"Yeah, probably there."

Wood scattered and splinted as a resounding bang filled the complex. Not even a second later, he was in what appeared to be an office that mimicked those from the Old World, and slightly resembled an office from Byzantium, with a fake holographic screen of greenery behind the desk. Behind the desk was a middle-aged man with slicked-back, short brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard dressed in a black suit with a red tie that seemed to have been made not even a day ago. Putting down the clear bottle of vodka, the slightly flushed man spoke in a strong southern accent without any fear.

"I told them so many times that there was no stopping you, but they still insisted on staying behind. Fools, throwing their lives away as a means to stop you or to let me escape. If not even the destruction of The Congressional Bunker did not deter you, then nothing would; you would hunt me down like a dog until the end of my days. Follow me if you will, or gun me down like you've done with so many others."

The President stood up as he walked away from the desk. Everything in Six's head called out telling him to just end it, while the growing murmurs continued to repeat chant that he should make it slow, painful and to enjoy it for as long as possible; despite this, he followed the man. The President lead to a side room that seemed more like a lab than anything, and it was almost as large as the entire complex itself. All the way at the back was a large, circular device that had many different wires, cables and power sources to it. Luckily, both the President and Six were in a small box with reinforced glass protecting them. In a dry, impassioned voice, Six spoke to the President as he sat down at a desk with many scattered pieces of paper.

"What the hell is that thing? It looks… familiar but not at the same time."

The dead man standing let out a small chuckle as he found a single piece of paper and shoved it in front of the Courier.

"It was- is- going to be the salvation of the wasteland. It's based off of an old piece of research that was abandoned before the war named 'Project: Far Cry'. It was supposed to open a gateway to parallel worlds so that resources could be gathered, but that plan was scrapped after the amount of resources was deemed too much, making both the base and the project shut down before the resource wars. We got lucky finding the site, and it was all thanks to you Courier."

He pulled out a bottle of beer before the cap popped easily. Finishing a small amount of the drink the man continued.

"I heard rumours of a man claiming to have seen the opposite of this world; a place where capitalism reigned supreme and businesses flourished, as well as a world of a failed utopia under the sea with the man returning to tell the tale. The only reason we were able to find the location of Project: Far Cry was through tracking what little was left of the national electrical grid, and where the majority of the power went to. Of course, it was shortly after you left the facility permanently that we managed to get the schematics and start working on it. We have no idea if it works, every time we try it just shows a forest."

Under his helmet, one of Six's eyebrows rose in questioning way. The man took another swig of his drink, before speaking again.

"There's nothing else to tell you. Before you… get on with it, can you do me one favour? I'd like to see the face of my killer, so I know who to welcome in hell."

It was an odd request, and one that he never got before but he obliged. A small hiss came from his helmet as the seals let go of the Elite Riot Gear. Six ignored the gasp that came from the president as he place the advanced technology onto the table. While his facial features were young, around the age of nineteen years old, there was large pieces of skin that seemed weathered down from years of travel. Just under his cheek bones and above his jaw were jagged, slightly pink scars, almost as if his cheeks had grown back.

A large and vicious but clean scar traced down from his forehead to just under his left cheek bone, with the eye that it covered having a metallic grey scalar and a glowing blue iris as a replacement. The only things that really betrayed his age was the greying roots of his untamed blonde hair, and the large dark bags under both of his eyes from a lack of restful sleep.

Whatever he was expecting the Enclave president to do, it wasn't to laugh, even if the man was in a drunken stupor.

"Of course, What else should I have expected! I remember your face from Navarro. I watched as you slaughtered both my parents and anyone else that got in your way. Each time I close my eyes, I see those tanned, blood drenched rag you called clothes, and that single eye gazing at me, before moving onto the next of my country. I want to know now, as my last request, why? Why were you there as the NCR tore the Enclave apart?"

Rough, drenched fingers grazed across The Courier's face as they traced the scars dressing his cheeks. Unlike before, Six spoke in a tired and breathy voice to the man, full of anger and rage.

"I'm not that thing! The Devil's dead, hell, I killed its copy after… "

He went silent for a second as a look of regret covered his face.

"It doesn't matter, all you need to know that what little of it even still remains is gone."

Six could feel the hot breath against his ear. Its taunting tone fully audible.

"_That's a lie, Lucky Sixes. You know I'm not dead."_

Wood shattered as the table was thrown aside through the viewing window and into the testing chamber of Project: Far Cry, before the bang of a hunting revolver echoed in the room. Crimson dripped from the bloody mess that was the President's head.

"_Look at what you did, Sixes! We just have to make sure that he never comes back, we wouldn't want the whole reason you started this to happen again."_

Loud, inescapable chanting echoed in Six's ears telling him to eat the still warm corpse of the man. He just barely ignored them again, instead, hoping to activate the machine. The Devil's permanent grin was unchanging as it watched him fiddle with the machine. If it was real, he could have heard the wooden staples creaking as the muscle behind it moved.

"_Maybe you shouldn't play with it. You could do something dangerous, maybe even hurt someone!"_

It laughed in its nearly childish tone, making Six feel sick at the joy it felt.

"I don't care what you want, you sick fuck. Go away and stay dead. I'm going, not like there's anything else here for me anyway. If I die, I'm dragging you with me."

Both stopped speaking as The Mojave's Messiah continued to mess with the machine, causing it to make a loud whirring noise.

"_You did this all for them didn't you?"_

An empty sigh left Six's mouth as he stopped operating the machine, all while the lights began to flicker as there power started to go.

"Yeah, it's about that. I'm just hoping that the Enclave stays dead this time, so that lot can get some peace."

Swiftly picking up his helmet, he placed it on his head with the hard shell feeling more comfortable than the still air he stood in front of the machine. The Wanderer right beside him as he watched the machine make a shifting blue light, before it became clear with the image of the forest and what appeared to be a sword.

"_I remember then, it was… simpler back then wasn't it? we only wanted to be a hero, right Sixes? A...Huntsman? Something like that…"_

The hallucination faced the Courier as his grin settled back down, almost to the point that he looked somewhat normal if he removed the wood. it almost made it seem… sad. Six let out a slight laugh.

"Look at me, a mess that's talking to a hallucination from when I was a monster. Yeah, I'm done here. This place doesn't need me anymore."

He jumped as the same light covered him, before the facility collapsed with no way back.


End file.
